Know Your Joe: Psyche-Out
by Red Witch
Summary: Co-Written with Coldfusion180! The interviews get crazier than usual with the Joe's resident shrink on the hot seat.


**The disclaimer telling you I don't own GI Joe characters is dissolved at the bottom of a coffee cup. Not even this idea is mine! Coldfusion 180 came up with the idea and wrote a lot of it!**

Duke grumbled. "Again, why do people keep giving her ideas?"

 **Know Your Joe: Psyche-Out**

"Well this isn't so bad," Shipwreck mused leaning back in his chair.

"No, it's **worse** ," Low Light grumbled folding his arms. Several Joes were crammed around a long table in one of the Pit's conference rooms. Shipwreck, Low Light, Sci-Fi, Roadblock, Flint, Lady Jaye, Dial Tone, Alpine, Bazooka, Duke and Beach Head were in the room.

"I agree," Beach Head grumbled. "Stuck in here with you for several hours. I'd rather be in the stockade."

"We blew up the stockade," Sci-Fi reminded him. "Along with the docks, two maintenance sheds, the commissary and half the motor pool during the latest Coffee War."

"Don't forget the kitchen," Roadblock groaned rubbing what remained of his eyebrows. "The meat locker still smells like nothing but burnt chicken."

"Why do we even have these stupid coffee wars?" Lady Jaye asked. "They are so pointless!"

"This from a woman who broke Scarlett's arm over her Café Bustelo?" Flint gave her a look.

"I did not break her **arm** ," Lady Jaye corrected. "We were fighting. She threw a punch. I ducked and she hit and iron support beam with her hand. So technically Scarlett broke her own hand. Not me."

"I can't believe Snake Eyes and the other ninjas ran off during the fight," Roadblock groaned. "You know things are bad when you give ninjas a fright!"

"Those guys only drink tea anyway," Beach Head told him. "They didn't exactly have a horse in that race."

"Speaking of horses where did Barbecue get one?" Dial Tone asked. "And why was he riding on it bare chested and screaming: 'You will never take our coffee'?"

"I think he saw Braveheart one time too many," Flint groaned.

"I feel sorry for Lifeline," Sci-Fi said. "He's got to tend to half the Joes on base. We're the only ones not in the infirmary."

"What's left of the infirmary," Shipwreck said.

"We also totaled six trucks, three tanks, a Skystriker," Dial Tone ticked off the list. "Along with the entire contents of the laundry room."

"And my obstacle course!" Beach Head roared in outrage.

"Eh, every cloud has a silver lining," Alpine quipped.

"You have a point," Beach Head thought. "I needed to rebuild it anyway. Those walls were way too easy to climb. And I can finally add those extra flamethrowers I wanted."

"Oh joy..." Alpine groaned.

"Ironically, the target range was the only place **not** hit during the conflict," Low Light grunted. "Unlike practically every other place on the base."

"I would like to point out that I am the **only** person in this room that technically **didn't** do any damage around here!" Shipwreck called out. "I was an innocent bystander!"

"Shipwreck you were making bets on who would kill each other and what would get blown up," Low Light gave him a look.

"Yes but I didn't **cause** any damage!" Shipwreck snapped. "That would have been stacking the odds!"

"Well the odds were pretty good that you would end up here with us," Low Light said. "Especially after you called out that the odds of Hawk's office would get blown up were three in five!"

"Well **it happened** , didn't it?" Shipwreck snapped. "It's not like it wasn't pretty obvious!"

"Personally, I think it was the destruction of the supply convoy for the infirmary that finally pushed Hawk over the edge," Lady Jaye sighed. "Especially since it was carrying his latest monthly order of aspirin."

"It wasn't just aspirin in there," Flint groaned. "His secret supply of scotch was in that convoy too."

"Wow," Shipwreck blinked. "No wonder the general went ballistic."

"I've never heard Hawk order for a firing squad before," Duke commented. "I'm surprised he didn't shoot us all himself."

"He was going to," Flint informed him. "I managed to bribe...I mean, **convince** him not to by handing over my last bag of Kopi Luwak beans."

"What?!" Lady Jaye yelped. "You told me we used up the last of it three weeks ago!"

"Have you been holding out on us?" Alpine demanded.

"Uh, it was my emergency supply," Flint gulped nervously. "Reserved only for life and death situations."

"This **is** a life and death situation!" Duke insisted. "With the latest round of budget cuts coffee is becoming harder to get than U-235!"

"Especially **good** coffee!" Alpine agreed. "We're getting desperate, man!"

"What about Starbucks?" Shipwreck asked. "They have good stuff."

"Didn't we get banned from Starbucks?" Sci-Fi asked. "After the incident with the bubble gum?"

"I said I was **sorry** about that!" Bazooka frowned.

"They sell Starbucks in grocery stores and big box stores now," Shipwreck waved. "The K-Cups are pretty good."

"Wait since when did **that happen**?" Low Light asked.

"Since this new thing called **all the time**?" Shipwreck blinked. "Seriously? None of you knew this?"

"This is the first I'm hearing about it," Roadblock admitted. "You mean all I had to do was go to Wal-Mart for my coffee hit?"

"Or Target or almost any grocery store," Shipwreck said. "They have a lot of variety."

"Son of a gun," Beach Head groaned.

"Someone get me a gun," Low Light grumbled. "So I can shoot myself!"

"I think there's still some of BA's coffee lying around somewhere," Bazooka spoke up.

"We're not **that** desperate," Alpine groaned.

"Why didn't you tell us about the stupid coffee thing Shipwreck?" Lady Jaye shouted.

"Kind of like a zen question coming to life," Low Light remarked. "Shipwreck actually has useful knowledge about something but doesn't say anything about it."

"The odds of Shipwreck having **any** useful knowledge are a thousand to one!" Lady Jaye snapped.

"Wow we would have lost that bet," Bazooka remarked.

"I'm surprised you didn't know Lady Jaye," Shipwreck said. "Flint's the one who has a collection of K-Cups for his secret coffee machine. He's the one who told me about it in the first place."

"WHAT?" Everyone else shouted.

"Thanks a lot Shipwreck…" Flint winced.

"Hand over the coffee Flint and nobody gets hurt," Lady Jaye growled.

Shipwreck punched a fist into his palm. "As well as any other mind-altering beverages you may have. Especially booze!"

"Are threatening a superior officer?" Flint demanded.

"You bet we are!" Lady Jaye poked him. "I WANT COFFEE!"

"So do I!" Duke snapped. "And as **your** superior officer Flint I want coffee **now!** "

"Oh great," Beach Head groaned as most the Joes started getting into a shoving match. "Stuck in here babysitting a bunch of caffeine-addicted three-year-olds. This can't get any worse!"

Just then the room's smart screen and ceiling-mounted projector flared to life. "Greetings friends! Once again it's time for another fun-filled round of Know Your Joe!" Short Fuse cheered.

"Wrong again," Low Light moaned as the image of Short Fuse and Quick Kick appeared on screen. "Both of you!"

"Oh crud," Beach Head gulped as every Joe in the room stared daggers of death at him. "I really need to stop **saying that**!"

"We really need to stop them from saying **anything,** " Sci-Fi pointed to the screen.

"I think I'd prefer the firing squad," Dial Tone groaned.

"Despite rumors to the contrary, we're still around, alive and kicking!" Quick Kick beamed at his pun. "Willing to risk life and limb to bring you the background of us hard working Joes!"

"More like **hardly** working," Shipwreck quipped at the pair. "And that's me saying it!"

"Forget this. I'm outta here!" Beach Head made a beeline for the door. "Hey, it's locked!" He kicked it only to bounce off. "Ow!"

"Hey, that's one of Tollbooth's new reinforced doors," Sci-Fi noted. "The kind with super-hard locks, bulletproof core and explosive-resistant hinges."

"Hawk must've had it installed to keep people from slipping out of meetings," Dial Tone reasoned.

"Actually, it's to keep them from getting **in** ," Roadblock said. "People kept sneaking in to steal the coffee."

"I think I just figured out why General Hawk locked us in here," Low Light groaned. "That man's getting a real sadistic streak."

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," Alpine groaned as Quick Kick continued to blab on screen. "Isn't torture explicitly banned by the Geneva Convention?"

"So is half the things we do on this base," Roadblock grumbled. "Something tells me we don't have a case!"

"Today we're interviewing one of the scariest and sneakiest members of the team," Quick Kick announced. "Someone even Snake Eyes is nervous to be in the same room with."

"Oh no, they didn't get Scarlett to appear, did they?" Duke blanched.

"Do you really think either of them would still be **alive** if they did?" Lady Jaye gave him a look.

"We really appreciate him being here," Short Fuse went on. "It makes the show extra special when we have a volunteer."

" **Volunteer**?" Low Light gasped. "What kind of complete and utter lunatic would willing appear on this show?"

"So without further ado, everyone say hello to our very own resident head-shrinker: Psyche-Out!"

"Ask a stupid question," Low Light groaned.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Psyche-Out smiled and waved at the camera.

"I should have **known** ," Beach Head moaned.

"And knowing is..." Bazooka began.

"No substitute for aspirin," Duke sighed. "Where's a nice, soothing Cobra attack when you need one?"

"Maybe they're blowing up another tea museum?" Low Light quipped.

"So, let's get started," Quick Kick readied his notes.

"Go ahead," Psyche-Out took out a notebook and pencil. "Tell me your problems. How do you feel about them?"

"Uh, Psyche? We're here to talk about **you** ," Short Fuse whispered. "We're the ones who are supposed to ask the questions."

"Oh, right," Psyche-Out put away his notebook. "I forgot. It's been a long time since I was on the other side of the couch!"

"Too long in my opinion," Low Light grumbled.

"So," Quick Kick tried again. "You're real name is Kenneth Rich and you're originally from San Francisco, California."

"Correct," Psyche-Out confirmed. "There's nothing like a day in the city by the bay."

"Are you trying to imitate Roadblock or something?" Short Fuse asked.

"No, just waxing poetic," Psyche-Out smiled. "I love seeing what makes people tick."

"Okay," Quick Kick went on. "How about you tell us a little about your childhood?"

"Hey, that's my line," Psyche-Out teased. "But seriously, my childhood was fine. I had my sister, my parents and lots and lots of doctors."

"Doctors?" Short Fuse blinked. "Were you a really sick kid or something?"

"Does he even have to ask?" Low Light quipped.

"No, not a bit," Psyche-Out explained. "My parents were just overprotective. They were worried I might have inadvertently been affected after my older brother went yonkers."

"What's wrong with Yonkers?" Short Fuse asked, confused. "New York can be a very cool place."

"No, I mean yonkers," Psyche-Out clarified. "Absolutely out-of-his-mind nuts! His classified jaunts within the bizarre world are legendary! Well, they would be legendary if they weren't sealed by several dozens court orders and confidentiality agreements. Technically I could get locked away just for telling you that much!"

"If only," Alpine groaned. "If only."

"Nice to see how much Psyche-Out follows doctor-patient confidentiality," Shipwreck quipped.

"We're supposed to trust **this guy**?" Alpine stared in disbelief.

"Eventually my brother had to be confined for his own safety," Psyche-Out explained. "He nearly killed himself during his rampage with the xylophone and balloons filled with chocolate pudding."

"Sounds like this place on a Tuesday night," Low Light groaned.

"It **was** this place on a Tuesday night," Beach Head corrected him.

"Oh right," Low Light remembered. "Airtight was taking BA's experimental cooking class."

"An experiment that failed," Beach Head groaned. "I still have pudding stains on my spare boots."

"My brother realized he needed help after that incident," Psyche-Out told the others. "He even requested an extra straightjacket to keep warm."

"If only Psyche-Out would follow his brother's example," Alpine groaned.

"Guess insanity runs in his family," Dial Tone remarked.

"More like gallops," Lady Jaye groaned.

"That explains a lot," Shipwreck quipped.

"My sister was too little to understand what was going on at the time," Psyche-Out went on. "But I was at a young, impressionable age and my parents signed me up for counseling to make sure I didn't become warped and psychologically scarred for life."

"Too late," Dial Tone sighed.

"Wow, that must have been really confusing for a kid," Quick Kick commented. "You must have had lots of questions and issues to work out."

"No, not really. I handled the whole thing in stride," Psyche-Out shrugged. "But the counselors I meet with certain had problems, let me tell you!"

"Really? Like what?" Short Fuse asked.

"Oh, you know. Conflict with their co-workers, trouble with their love lives, mid-life crises, the usual," Psyche-Out said. "Most people don't seem to realize psychologists need to see psychologists too. I tried to help talk them through their problems, but they all ended up going crazy away."

"Some things never change," Flint moaned.

"That's why I ended up having so many doctors. None of them lasted more than a few sessions after they started seeing me," Psyche-Out explained. "They'd jump out of windows, start seeing talking hippos that could fly, or dress in old burlap bags declaring to be Queen of the Coconut People."

"Didn't Airtight do that just **last week**?" Bazooka asked.

"He does that **every week** ," Lady Jaye told him. "Though usually it's the Scorpion People he goes with."

"How he manages to dress his pet scorpions in sparkly dance outfits and wave little scorpion flags is beyond me," Duke groaned.

"Obviously some kind of scorpion based drugs are used," Shipwreck said. "Don't ask how I know that."

"I won't," Duke groaned. "In your case **not knowing** is half the battle!"

"Coconut People?" Short Fuse blinked. "What did you do to those doctors? Give them drugs or something?"

"Of course not," Psyche-Out scoffed. "I only suggested they try to express themselves through modeling clay and finger-painting. It wasn't until they loaded the art supplies into air guns that we finally achieved a breakthrough!"

"I'm going to take a stab at this," Quick Kick sighed. "It was **your idea** wasn't it?"

"How did you ever know?" Psyche-Out asked.

"Lucky guess," Quick Kick groaned.

"Forget Psyche-Out," Low Light snapped. "He should change name to **Psycho**!"

"His real name or his code name?" Bazooka asked.

" **Both**!" Low Light shouted.

"O-kay," Quick Kick blinked. "I'm guessing meeting with all those doctors is where your interest in psychology came from."

"Yep," Psyche-Out grinned. "I found I had a real knack for getting inside other people's heads and became fascinated with the powerful yet delicate faces of the mind. Sure had I few accidents working out the kinks, but none of the lawsuits ever stuck and eventually things paid off."

"Accidents?" Short Fuse gulped.

"Lawsuits?" Quick Kick blinked. " **Paid off?"**

"Now this could be interesting," Shipwreck grinned. "Anybody else smell cover-up?"

"That's not all I smell," Low Light winced holding his nose. "For gosh sakes, put on some deodorant!"

"What have I told you about making fun of the way I smell?" Beach Head roared.

"I was talking about **him**!" Low Light pointed at Shipwreck.

"Oh, right," Beach Head blushed.

"You're actually smelling better than usual," Low Light remarked.

"New soap," Beach Head said.

"Since when do use soap?" Shipwreck asked.

"For your information I have an allergy to aluminum zirconium which is found in ninety five percent of deodorants!" Beach Head snapped. "Of course I use soap! I just can't use anything else! I happen to have very sensitive armpits!"

"Too bad that's the only part of you that has **any sensitivity** at all," Duke grumbled.

"Yes, years of study eventually paid off when I received my psychology degree from Berkeley," Psyche-Out said proudly. "I then worked on various research projects involving the inducement of paranoia by means of low frequency radio waves."

"Really?" Short Fuse asked nervously. "How would we know if you succeeded?"

"How would you know if I **didn't?** " Psyche-Out replied cryptically.

"Uh..." Short Fuse began to look around fugitively.

"I hope Psyche-Out doesn't work on stuff like that anymore," Bazooka gulped glancing around. "He could be experimenting on us right now and we wouldn't even know it!"

"Calm down, Bubble Gum Brain. Psyche-Out won't do stuff like that to his fellow Joes," Alpine tried to assure himself. "Would he? Oh no, now he's got **me** doing it!"

"Upon enlisting in the army I was first posted to the Deceptive Warfare Center at Fort Bragg," Psyche-Out continued. "Where I continued my pioneering work in the field of wave-induced behavior modification."

"Wave-induced behavior modification has been around for years," Low Light commented. "It's called ' **watching TV** '."

"And with cameras built into them and everything else on the market Big Brother is finally here," Alpine began to sweat nervously. "Beware! Beware!"

"Calm down, you clown," Roadblock told him. "There's nothing to fear, plain and clear."

"Yes, you can rest assured knowing that I alone am responsible for maintaining the mental health of the entire G.I. Joe team!" Psyche-Out beamed proudly.

"On second thought," Roadblock moaned. "Now **that's** scary!"

"Speaking of which, I noticed you both seemed kind of tense lately," Psyche-Out told his hosts casually. "Is something wrong with either of you?"

"Does he even have to ask?" Low Light quipped.

"Us?" Quick Kick repeated. "No, we're fine. Right, Short Fuse?"

"Right," Short Fuse nodded. "Nothing wrong with us."

"Wanna bet?" Beach Head grunted.

"Really? There must be something bothering you," Psyche-Out probed.

"We're fine," Short Fuse said. "Fine, fine, fine."

"Trust me, man. Both our heads are fine and there's nothing we need to talk about," Quick Kick smiled.

Five minutes later...

"Why did I break things up with Cassandra?" Quick Kick bawled slumping across his desk. "I could have lived with her seeing me as nothing but a studly piece of meat!"

"I miss my momma!" Short Fuse blew his nose with his sleeve. "I haven't had a decent sleep since she stopped kissing me goodnight!"

"CASSANDRA! WHY? WHY DID I TAKE YOU FOR GRANTED!" Quick Kick bawled.

"I AM NOT FINE!" Short Fuse wailed. "I AM SO NOT FINE!"

"That's it. Just let it all out," Psyche-Out said calmly taking notes.

"I wish somebody **would** let us out," Alpine groaned glancing at the door. "This is the worse form of torture known to man!"

"I'll start crying myself if I have to watch this dribble any longer," Flint moaned.

"So Cassandra saw me as nothing more than a hot body with a cute face?" Quick Kick moaned. "I could have lived with that!"

"That's it! I can't take it anymore!" Low Light declared standing up. "I saw we use the table as a battering ram and bust outta here!"

"Now you're talking!" Beach Head agreed. "Let's do it!"

"Are you kidding? There's no way we'll be able to break down the door," Sci-Fi pointed out.

"Then we'll go through a **wall**!" Low Light shouted.

"I saw we use Flint as the battering ram," Lady Jaye suggested. "His **head** is obviously **hard** enough!"

"You're still upset about the coffee aren't you?' Flint gulped.

"What do you think?!" Lady Jaye snapped. "I WANTED THAT COFFEE!"

"WAAAHHHHHHHHH!" The two full-grown men cried on-screen.

"Do you think there's a way we could get Psyche-Out to convince those two never to do another show again?" Duke asked as the Joes prepared to make a run with the table.

"We could always try to have him hypnotize 'em," Shipwreck grinned as they charged. "That way we'll have plenty of blackmail material if they do!"

"But first we get him to tell us where Flint hid his coffee," Duke told him.


End file.
